If war was hell in Sherman's day
by Averysillybird
Summary: A new doctor comes to join the 4077, captain John Watson. It isn't until a spy with an injured leg comes in that John begins to loosen up and make friends at the M*A*S*H unit. It shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone that soon John Watson, Hawkeye Pierce, and the famous spy Sherlock Holmes get a long very well. (Title from my favorite quote of Hawkeye's)
1. A new doctor in camp

"Swear that mud was not my fault no matter what Frank says," Hawkeye yelled, pointing at his at Colonel Blake as he entered his office. Henry was in the chair behind his desk, leaning back. He sighed and said, "I don't even want to know what happened Pierce." "Then why did you call me in here?" Hawkeye asked, sitting down. Henry pulled an envelope out of one the drawers in his desk and tossed it across the table to his chief surgeon. Hawkeye opened the envelope as Colonel Blake informed him, "We're gaining another surgeon, fresh from the states." Hawkeye raised an eyebrow but pulled the papers out of the envelope and scanned them before making any wise remarks. "Captain, well at least I don't have to worry about him going on about having authority over me the way frank does," Hawkeye read. Henry only rolled his eyes. "Oh he's English, I enjoy having that accent around," Hawkeye continued. He closed the envelope and handed it back to Colonel Blake adding, "So when do we get to meet this Captain John Watson?" "Late this afternoon," Henry said, putting the file away. "I'll get a place in the swamp ready for him," Hawkeye said with a smile. He stood up and turned to leave, Henry called after him, "Make sure to help him adjust." Colonel Blake leaned back in his chair again and said, "God knows we all could have used someone's help when it came to that."

* * *

Hawkeye was exiting the operating tent when he saw the Jeep pull in. The man who he assumed to be Captain Watson sat in the front passenger seat silently looking around. He had a wary expression on his face, and it was clear his dark grey eyes were adjusting the atmosphere of the 4077. Hawkeye approached the Jeep but stood a few paces back, his arms crossed over his chest. When John climbed down from Jeep, Hawkeye noticed his limp, and looked mildly surprised. He remembered reading that the doctor had served in WWII with the British before this. John looked around and when he caught eyes with Hawkeye, the chief surgeon waved. John looked surprised, as if he hadn't expected anyone to be friendly. His expression changed slightly as he smiled and walked over to Hawkeye. "You must be John Watson," Captain Pierce said, offering one his hand. John took it and shook it enthusiastically. "Yes sir, and what is your name?" He said, his tone warm but cautious. "You can call me Hawkeye, doctor," Captain Pierce responded. He headed towards the Jeep and called to John, "Come on, let's get your bags so we can get you settled in before your first surgery." John obediently followed him.

* * *

John looked around the swamp, clearly slightly amused by the way the men had arranged it. "This is your bunk over here, and if you ever want any gin, the distilleries right over here," Hawkeye said, giving doctor Watson the grand tour. John sat on his bunk and set his bag to the side. He looked around and said, "Who else stays here?" "Well Trapper and Frank are both checking on their post-op patients right now, but you'll meet them soon enough," Hawkeye smirked slightly, deciding to wait and see how the new guy and Frank got along before he said anything. Just then the announcement of incoming wounded blared over the speakers. John stood up and glanced at Hawkeye as if asking what he should do, Hawkeye's smirk only grew as he added, "I guess you'll get to meet them very soon." He headed out of the tent, gesturing to John who followed swiftly behind him.


	2. Cry, scream or throw up?

**Thank you for the review! I truly appreciate it. I hope this feel more in character for Hawkeye. :) **

John was intensely focused on his patients, only speaking to get instruments from the nurses. Hawkeye and Frank were up to their normal jabs at one another. To them this was a lighter wave of causalities, and none of the injuries were too sever. "I don't know why they let hotlips be your nurse Frank, I mean I know these aren't the most intense surgeries we've had but it's still not a good time to be distracted." Frank sputtered for a few seconds before responding, "At least I'm not distracted by every nurse that happens to brush my hand while giving me an instrument." "See but even when I'm distracted Frank I am still twice the surgeon you are." Houlihan gently reassured her lover that Hawkeye was just trying to aggravate him as always and that nothing he said was true. John moved to his next patient so he was right next to Major Burns. "Say you're the new guy right?" Frank asked him. John was so involved with his patient, he didn't realize Frank was talking to him. Frank turned to glare at Hawkeye demanding, "What did you say to him about me?" Hawkeye shrugged and said, "Absolutely nothing Frank, he learned to ignore you all on his own." It was then that John realized they were probably talking about him. "Uh what, sorry, I was… working on my patient," he said, sounding mildly irritated. "I just wanted to know if you're john Watson," Frank responded, somewhat defensively. "Yes," John said, restoring his attention to his patient. Frank continued the conversation, though. "Are you part of the UN forces? I heard you're from England," Frank asked. John nodded and finished a row of stiches on one of his patients' wounds before adding, "I was staying in America before I came here, though." He returned the needle to the nurse and requested a pair of tweezers mumbling, "My doctor thought it would be good for me to get away from England for a bit," as he dug shrapnel out of the soldier's arm. "Be careful Watson, Frank might get you deported if he knows you're not a US citizen," Hawkeye said. "Hawkeye likes to poke fun at me, don't take him too seriously," Frank said to John, as if trying to get him onto his side. Hawkeye rolled his eyes and said, "I disagree Frank, I think he should take me very seriously." John did not want to be involved in this little argument right now, he didn't understand how they could banter this way when they were struggling to save lives in a tent where half their patients were nearly dead on arrival. Then again, he began to wonder if this sort of surgery was something you could get used to. He shook his head, that was a morbid idea he didn't have time to think about around now.

john took a step out of the O.R and took a deep breath, rubbing his hands together. Suddenly everything from the day seemed to hit him at once and he felt himself slide down so he was leaning against the tent, hugging his knees. He buried his face in his legs took a few more deep breath. "How are you Doctor Watson?" He heard a voice ask, and he quickly snapped his head up to look the direction of the voice. It was Hawkeye, gazing at him with an empathetic expression. John struggled to his feet and said, "Oh yeah, everything is… just fine." He even added a smile to enforce that idea. Hawkeye's expression did not change much, but he smiled slightly as he put his hand on John's shoulder. "It's a lot to come to terms with, I know," he said, after chuckling and putting his hand down he added, "After my first day I wasn't sure whether I wanted to scream, throw up or cry." John looked at him with a mildly bemused expression and asked, "What did you end up doing?" "Honestly?" John nodded, "I got drunk." John couldn't help but laugh and captain Pierce joined in. Hawkeye put his arm around Johns shoulder and began pulling him towards the swamp, "Come on doctor, we should have a fresh batch of gin ready for you right now." John was still smiling, this place made no sense at all but somehow the fact that this was the way things were suppose to be comforted him.


	3. A new nickname and a strange new patient

John poked at the food that was on his tray with his fork. He finally scooped up a bit and set the fork nervously in his mouth. He chewed a few times, grimacing, before forcing himself to swallow. He picked up his mug of coffee and sipped at it silently. Hawkeye joined him at the table laughing and saying, "You know if waited for me I could have told you what to avoid." John raised and eyebrow and said, "Yeah?" "Yes, I would have told you to avoid all of it." John chuckled and shook his head. Trapper joined them and with a mouth half full of food he said, "You know we need to come up with a nickname for you." John sat back slightly, smirking and said, "Alright, I'm game, what are your ideas?" "Well let's see, we know you're British, fought in WWII… and if last night is any sort of indicator you are a very functional alcoholic." John nearly choked his coffee, feeling slightly embarrassed by that one. Trapper laughed and said, "It's ok, I'm pretty sure the majority of us here are." "Still I don't really want a nickname that has to do with that," John muttered, taking another sip. "Hmmm…. What's your middle name?" Hawkeye asked. John let out a single laugh and said, "I am not going to tell you that." That got Hawkeye's attention, "Well now we have to know." John shook his head, putting his mug down and his tray and standing up with it in hand.

John was relaxing on his bed after his shift in surgery when Hawkeye came in, calling, "The votes are in, a name has been selected." John sighed loudly but sat up, "Alright, what is it?" "We played around with your middle name, which we found in your file, and we realized you reminded us of a particular animal." John looked slightly amused to hide the hint of dread that was also forming within him. "Mr. Watson have you ever come across a Hedgehog?" Hawkeye asked, coming to stand by John's bunk. At that couldn't help but start laughing out loud. "Well I'll take that as a yes," Hawkeye said smiling. John's laughter trailed off as he shook his head and said, "When I was little my sister had one her friend from the continent had given her, and she used to place it in my bed when I wasn't looking. I'd always roll half onto it in my sleep and jump nearly a foot in the air when it poked me." Hawkeye laughed and responding, "I guess we're even better at picking nicknames than we thought!" John was still smiling as he nodded. He stood up and said, "I have definitely had worse nicknames, so I wanted to say thank you for not thinking of them." "Oh we thought of them, we just thought it wasn't fair to stick you with those yet." John rolled his eyes, chuckling again, as he headed out of the swamp.

"Hedge, can get you the guy coming in, this operation is going be a bit more involved than I thought," Hawkeye called, as John finished stitching up his patient. shook his head as he walked over to the man, that nickname was still something he had to get used to. "What's the trauma," John asked, as they gave the anesthetic, already seeing it had something to with the patient's shoulder. "There are three bullet wounds sir, two on his right shoulder and one on his upper right arm, but they are not like the bullets we're familiar with sir," John looked at his nurse, but there was no time to ask questions now. He leaned over the patient and began asking for his instruments.

"Agent Sherlock Homes," John read on the strange man's clipboard, they had finished in surgery and now he was checking on his patients. John had come to the man who had been shot in the shoulder first, wanting to know more about him and his backstory. He was a spy from MI4, they knew that much, but John wondered if they would ever get to hear how the man had been wounded. He was wearing dress pants and white button up shirt that was now splattered with blood. They had discovered the bullets were Russian upon examination. There was a story here, and John knew it had to be fascinating. After examining the wounds and seeing they were healing correctly, he looked at the man one last time before moving to his next patient. "I can't wait till you wake up," he muttered.


	4. And yet you are making me stay here

It wasn't until the next evening that Agent Holmes awoke. John was finishing an operation on one of his patients that wasn't improving. They had discovered a piece of shrapnel that they had missed during the first operation and John silently prayed he wasn't missing anything else. Hawkeye had insisted that he shouldn't feel bad, that night there had been a heavy wave of casualties and everyone had struggled to keep up. Still, John had trouble forgiving himself, and he silently vowed he won't unless the solider was able to recover completely. As he finished stitching up the wound, he grimaced and stood back staring at the man as if he expected an instant change. The nurse who was assisting him, nurse Hooper attempted to comfort him, "Um, you know we probably won't know for days whether or not the surgery worked… you should just… rest and we'll see how he is in the morning." John shook his head and said quietly, "I doubt I'll be able to sleep tonight." Molly frowned and looked down. "Alright, I… I'm sorry Doctor…" John shook his head and said, "Don't be." Molly quickly scampered out of the room, before pausing briefly to look at Sherlock. There was something about him that seemed so intriguing, she couldn't place her finger on it. When she saw that John had noticed her stopping, she turned bright red, apologized again and rushed out of the O.R. John had to let himself laugh a bit as he shook his head. He turned his back to Agent Holmes only to hear a gasp. He spun around and saw the strange man was sitting up looking around wildly. When he caught eyes with John he demanded, "Where am I?" "You're in a mobile army surgical hospital," John said, blinking. Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "I know that," he spat, "But which M*A*S*H? What town are we near?" John took a step closer, feeling less stunned. "This is the 4077, we're just outside… Uijeongbu I believe," John said, "Why?" "You know you're really not suppose to ask a spy those sorts of questions," Sherlock said, moving as though he was preparing to get up. John rushed to the side of his cot saying, "Oh no no no, you're not getting up yet." Sherlock sighed again as his thin shoulders dropped. "And why not?" he said in a frustrated tone. Now it was John's turn to roll his eyes as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Because you're wounds aren't healed yet and I am not going to let another patient of mine get worse." Sherlock narrowed his eyes and looked as though he wanted to strangle John for a second but relented and instead faced forward again as he crossed his own arms. "I am on a mission that could end this war once and for all and yet you insist on making me stay here for what?" he scoffed, and gestured with one of his hands, "a few trivial bullet wounds." John nodded and said, "Yeap, that's right, I am. Here…" John leaned down and fluffed Sherlock's pillow a bit, "I've fluffed your pillow and we'll do anything else you want us to do to make you comfortable." Sherlock laid back down and set his jaw definitely. "Nothing would make me comfortable in this prison," he muttered. John shook his head but smiled. "I am heading back to my tent but if you need anything there will be nurses stationed here all night," he said turning around and walking towards the door adding under his breath, "Judging by the amount they loved you when you were unconscious I'm sure they'll fight over who gets to even fetch your bedpan." Sherlock said nothing, already reverting to sulking.

* * *

"Are you sure I can't get you anything? You don't want anything to eat or drink?" Molly asked timidly as the ever petulant Sherlock Holmes just silently shook his head. Molly sighed and said, "Alright but I will just over there if you need me." She said gesturing with her hand, Sherlock didn't respond so she just shuffled away awkwardly. Sherlock shut his eyes amd appeared to be sleeping when in actuality he was thinking deeply. A few hours later with a loud sigh his eyes popped open, and he shouted, "Bored!" Nurse Hooper jumped nearly a foot in the air before rushing to his side. "What?" she asked. Sherlock turned to look at her and said, "There is nothing left to analysis that I haven't analysis dozens of times already. " "Uh… oh… would you like me to get you a book? I know we have plenty of bibles around here thanks to father Mulcahy … but I am sure I could find something else if you'd like," she stammered. Sherlock sighed again and turned his head so he was staring at the ceiling. "I am sure I have read anything you would find and if I haven't I am sure I would be positively bored by it." "Uh," Molly said, looking around the tent, "Oh I know, what about medical text books?" Sherlock seemed to contemplate that for a second before dramatically responding, "I guess I could attempt to read that." Molly smiled, feeling proud of herself for finally finding something he was at least mildly interested in. "I'll be right back!" she said, scampering away.


	5. His bluntness makes up for it

"So this is the famous Agent Sherlock Holmes we've been hearing so much about," Hawkeye said, perching on the edge of Sherlock's bed with Trapper standing behind him. Sherlock sat up slightly, setting down the medical journal he was reading as he analyzed the two men. They were both doctors, American, easy-going. "Who has been speaking about me?" Sherlock asked carefully. "Well all the nurses certainly but they've got even Henry excited now," Hawkeye said, grinning. Sherlock propped himself up a little higher, his eyes were narrowed. "What have they been saying?" Sherlock continued, clearly not assumed. Hawkeye shrugged and said, "Mostly they have been gossiping about how you got your wounds." Sherlock rolled his eyes, and let himself fall back onto the pillow, clearly dismissing that nothing too serious. "Just tell us so we know, are you even allowed to tell us what happened?" Trapper chimed in. Sherlock glared at him for a second before saying, "Probably not, no, but even if I could tell you'd probably find the story rather boring." Hawkeye nodded slowly and said to Trapper, "You know they're right, he does seem kind of stuck up but he his bluntness makes up for it." "Are you two going to stay here and continue to insult me or may I get some rest now?" Sherlock said in an unamused tone. Hawkeye laughed and said, "No we'll get out of your hair. Oh which is another thing the nurses talk a lot about. " Sherlock finally smirked slightly and responded as Hawkeye stood up and turned away, "It's good to know some people here will listen to you."

* * *

"How are you?" John asked, coming to Sherlock's bedside, glancing over his chart. Sherlock sighed and said in a frustrated tone, "I am fine. I told you that several days ago, I am fit to leave." John mostly ignored his whining, frowning when he came to part of his chart. "It says here you have only eaten once since you woke," John said, looking at Sherlock with a concerned expression. Sherlock rolled his eyes and muttered, "I don't know why you doctors are always so fixed on the amount I eat. I have been sleeping more than normal and my mind is slowly rotting due to the fact that it hasn't really been used enough, so I need less energy, therefor I need less food." John had to admit that this man had a thorough logic, but John was as stubborn as Sherlock was and he wasn't going to give up that easily. "Alright what do you like to eat?" John asked, sitting on the side of his bed. Sherlock eyed him and shook his head, "I don't really ever enjoy eating, it's something I do out of habit and necessity. " John exhaled and looked away, thinking for a second. He stood up and said, "You know what, I'll be right back." Sherlock raised his eyebrows and looked slightly amused, as if daring John to find something he'd eat. He picked up his latest medical book again, and began to read it as John walked away. John came back several hours later, and when Sherlock peered up, he saw he was holding a tray. John set the tray down on Sherlock's bed side table. It had a tea pot and two mugs on it, a tray of real English biscuits, two slices of toast with marmite, two slices with orange marmalade, and last put not least a tray of Kippers. Sherlock felt his stomach growled as he stared at the familiar English food he missed. John smiled when he saw the agent's reaction. He picked up one of the mugs and said quietly, "I even have earl grey for us to share." Sherlock sat up and took the mug, taking a sip. He exhaled and smiled, "God I missed this." He shook his head and looked at John, "The black mud they call coffee that they serve around here is really no substitute." John laughed, nodding. "My sister sent this all to me before I came here, she remember that what I missed most was the food," John said, clearly somewhat nostalgic. "Well when you write your sister, tell her it was smart of her to sent this to you," Shelock said, allowing himself to smile. John smiled back and nodded once. "Of course," he said. He had a feeling that was Sherlock's way of saying thank you. Together the two men sat and drank their tea while Sherlock began to pick at the other food.


End file.
